


Once Were Angels: First Time Around

by nic



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-23
Updated: 2002-02-23
Packaged: 2017-11-01 08:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/354334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nic/pseuds/nic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end is found in the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Were Angels: First Time Around

## Once Were Angels: First Time Around

by Jedi Nic

<http://home.dencity.com/Jedi_Nic>

* * *

Once Were Angels: First Time Around  
by Jedi Nic (jedinic@bigfoot.com)  
December 2001.  
Rating: R 

Notes: 

  1. "Once were Angels: First Time Around" is part 1 of a trilogy but each part may be considered complete within itself. It's an experiment of sorts, ripping off various science-fiction plot devices while taking Clark and Lex to extreme but possible characterisations. Besides, I figure if Lex Luthor wants a time machine, he'll just go ahead and build one. 
  2. This was written over Christmas and there's a scene which unfortunately bears much resemblance to part of "Rogue". That's the risk you take in writing a current show. 
  3. Thank you to my wonderful beta readers, Dana and Righ (even though they refused to kiss my feet) and Erika. 
  4. This is Dark!Fic. Just so you know. 



Disclaimer: "Smallville" and the characters mentioned within are not my property. No copyright infringement is intended. 

* * *

Once Were Angels : First Time Around 

He fell. 

His eyes were wide open and he knew he was screaming, only there was no sensation of vocalisation and perhaps that was because the wind was howling in his ears; the wind, along with a kaleidoscope of colours and sensations that couldn't possibly make sense in this or any reality, because he couldn't be falling.... 

But he was, and it was an endless spiral, and as he fell, he saw the future, or the past; it was difficult to tell sometimes. 

He saw Clark. 

And that fragment, the single image, was enough to give him clarity to hold on to the fact that he was Lex, and he'd chosen to fall in this manner, because his future depended upon it. Everyone's future depended upon it, but no one had more to lose than Lex. He fell for a whim, a random idea, a _chance_ , of all things, which was ludicrous within itself because Lex Luthor never left anything to chance. 

And yet.... 

...yet... 

...when he closed his eyes against the maelstrom and _remembered_ , and shut aside the pain of his phantom hand, and tried to focus on that one moment of clarity, there was nothing but Clark. Clark, and the overwhelming notion that _he_ was the only thing of importance in this endless fall, although Lex couldn't quite pinpoint why. 

His hand, his phantom hand, it drew his eyes away from the nothingness that wasn't really there. It burned, it filled him with rage and for a moment he knew that whoever had done this to him deserved retribution in the most exacting fashion. And at the same moment, the world turned on its head and Lex knew that it would never happen again. 

He wouldn't let it happen again. 

He hadn't let it happen again. 

A twinge of memory, of blue and red, of fear mixed with revulsion and then with horror, only there was the tiniest tug of -- compassion? Regret? _I never meant to kill you._

A brilliant flash, and the world was gone. 

Lex crashed into the dirt, in the middle of a cornfield, his mouth, his nostrils, filled with the scent of something barely remembered. As he struggled to his feet, looked down, and realised that he was _whole_ again, he laughed even though he couldn't quite remember why he was laughing. 

Because he was twenty-one years old and still stuck in Smallville and had no idea how to achieve the greatness that was to be his destiny. The fragmented memories coalesced, then disappeared, and the only thing he knew was that his purpose in life was to seduce Clark Kent. 

*  
[Before] 

It missed. Lex Luthor swore viciously, crushing the glass in his real hand. He barely noticed the red blood that trickled down his wrist, destroying the pristine whiteness of his shirt, because it was now irrelevant. It was all irrelevant, because he, along with the rest of the world, had barely five hours to live. 

There was a pounding on the door and instinctively, Lex turned. It would be one of his lackeys to apologise for the failure and already he could hear the words. "Our calculations must have been off...achieving that kind of precision in space is near-impossible...we can try again...." 

Try again. He laughed at the thought, then glanced out of the window at the dying city. There was no power left; he'd drained it all. He owned it all. He had it all. 

Only now, it didn't matter, because the asteroid was on its way and soon everything would be wiped out. As president, Lex was the most powerful man on the planet but even he couldn't control the stars. 

The knocking on the door continued and Lex resolutely ignored it. They should go home, to their families, say goodbye. Surely they'd realised by now that there was no hope. All of his careful plans had come to an end -- the space weapons, the cloning program, the time travel machine that never worked properly anyway. It could only send you to the past, and where was the fun in that? 

And then the realisation hit him. It had never worked, because there _was_ no future and wasn't that the ultimate irony? His reasons for constructing such a machine had been to learn from the future, to reinforce his power. Having achieved everything anyway, there wasn't much point in wishing for something that wasn't. 

Lex paced. There was a glow in the sky that wasn't the sun; perhaps the asteroid had entered orbit already. And even if he could change the past, how was he supposed to stop an asteroid? Something you'd only get one shot at destroying, something he'd already missed because there just wasn't enough power on earth to take it out? 

If only.... 

But no. There wasn't going to be any last minute reprieve, he'd taken care of that several years ago. 

Even now, the memory caused a twinge. 

He left the window then, not wanting to see the approaching end. Instead, he was drawn towards the hidden room, the room he never went into, the room no-one knew existed. Because already an idea was sparking inside his mind -- Lex knew he was brilliant, everyone agreed -- but sometimes, even the best of ideas took a little time to come. Perhaps that was because this was something he'd forgotten deliberately, not wanting to deal with the emotions. 

Emotions? He laughed as he entered the code and the wall slid aside, a laugh sounding empty even to his own ears. It was a sound he'd perfected years ago, one that said, "You can't touch me" and it was true, nothing could touch him. 

Nothing but this. The sight caused him to stop breathing, just for a second, because it had been a long time since he'd been in here, yet even now, there was no change. The body lay there, resplendent, in glorious blue and red. It was as if Clark was only sleeping. There was nothing designed to preserve his body, but it did not decay. 

Superman could have stopped the asteroid. 

But Lex had killed Superman, and then laughed about it, because laughing was the best way not to care. 

Compelled, Lex stepped forward. The eyes closed forever, but he could remember what they were, the thousand different colours that were so often filled with hope, purity, goodness. Something inside Lex stirred and he ruthlessly quashed it down, because who was to say that Clark -- Superman -- was good and Lex was bad? Lex had just tried to save the planet! His schemes, while designed only to increase his own power, weren't necessarily bad. The world needed a leader, and to have control was to make a difference. 

Clark hadn't seen it that way. 

Lex gently touched the cheek, expecting coldness, feeling only the lukewarm temperature of the room. He was perfect in every way save for the fact that his heart didn't beat. Lex's eyes traversed the length of the body and he smiled, almost genuinely, at the ridiculous tights. He'd always know that Clark was a little bit bent that way and wished that he'd, just once, taken advantage of it. 

He paused, remembering that dark day Metropolis had mourned for months. Lex too had mourned, it earned him sympathy, because of course no one knew it was his fault. Fault or deliberate design? And again, Lex wondered just why he'd deliberately quashed that memory. It was supposed to have been his day of victory. 

"If I brought you back," he said slowly, "would you be grateful?" No, Clark wouldn't even know. And in an instant, Lex could see it all -- the same old dance of Lex is Bad and Clark is Good because they were from opposite ends of the universe and could never come to an understanding. It had been like that since Lex had left Smallville, in a fit of rage he could barely remember now, over something small and inconsequential, but it had left a rift between them. 

"You would still hate me," he whispered, wondering just why Superman hated him so, when all Clark was capable of was love. "You'd never understand that everything I tried -- it was never bad. It was only business." 

He remembered the horror of leaning over Superman's fallen body, taking his first close look at that face, even as he was dying, and realising, truly _looking_ at his nemesis for the first time. Feeling the terrible sense of betrayal that it was _Clark_ all this time and Clark couldn't have done that to him -- could he? 

Lex shuddered, and at the same time, the world seemed to shudder. A screaming noise erupted from outside, smashing through the soundproof barriers and it was horribly reminiscent of the day that Clark had come into his life and nearly destroyed it. "Turnabout is fair play," he said to the body, wondering just why he was still trying to justify the fact. He had never wanted to hurt Clark. It was only Superman who got in the way -- Superman, the man, the myth, the one thing he couldn't control. 

The one thing that could have saved them all, because Lex knew that Clark could fly. 

And for a moment, Lex wished that Clark had taken him flying just once. 

He reached out, took the dead hand. "What is it about you?" Again the earth shuddered -- it was too soon for the asteroid to be here, but perhaps there were fragments, or perhaps Earth's citizens were speeding up the inevitable. "You'd save us all, Clark. You'd save me." A pause. "Wouldn't you?" 

There was no answer, but there didn't have to be. Because if Lex managed to pull it off, Clark would never betray him again. 

He kissed the hand, gently. He thought about kissing Clark's lips, but knew that it was best to save that particular first for another moment, preferably when they were both alive. Then he turned, left the body to the fate of the asteroid, and went to find his own future...in the past. 

*  
"Lex?" The voice was music to his ears and he inhaled deeply, savouring the tang of midnight air. "Are you all right? I thought I heard something -- what are you doing out here?" 

Turning slowly, he smiled. Assessing Clark, with just enough of a feral grin to put Clark off balance. "Just enjoying the fresh air." The lie would only serve to increase Clark's confusion. "What are you doing out of bed at this hour -- on a school night?" He wasn't entirely sure of the last fact, but the gamble paid off and Clark looked slightly guilty. 

"Just -- you know, stargazing. I have a telescope," and the boy pointed back at his parents' barn, obviously forgetting that Lex already knew that Clark quite often liked to watch things he wasn't exactly supposed to. It was a trait that would stay with him for most of his life. 

That thought gave Lex pause. Where had it come from? He couldn't tell the future; he'd only ever met one person who had been able to do that, and she had died. It wasn't his fault. Not at all. Unconsciously, one hand clenched into a fist. 

Thankfully, Clark didn't seem to notice. 

"Why don't you just ask her out?" 

"Who?" Clark played the innocent so well. 

"The lovely Ms. Lang, of course." 

"She -- uh -- she has a boyfriend." 

"And you're too good and noble to get in the way, even though you know that her boyfriend isn't worth," he gestured expansively, "the mud beneath my shoes?" Lex glanced down, wondering why his feet looked so strange to him all of a sudden. No matter, the game had to go on. 

"And then one has to think," Lex continued, making sure he was giving Clark just the right _look_ a challenge mixed with a hint of speculation, "that why would someone like you be interested in a girl who can't see the flaws in her current paramour?" 

"Whitney's not so bad," Clark defended. 

Lex waited for him to go on. 

"He's not, he -- um -- he plays football, and sometimes they get carried away." Lex could tell, right in that moment, that Clark had never told anyone else what had happened to him that night when Lex found him strung up in the field. 

"You don't get carried away, Clark." Saying his name, it was almost a benediction (he's alive!) and Lex wondered how the name could flow from his tongue so easily, and how merely a name could make him think the most lecherous of thoughts. Then again, it wasn't that preposterous when he took the time to appreciate the visage before him. Wide eyes, the tall, lean frame, red lips and a hint of a blush appearing at Lex's obvious scrutiny. 

Clark folded his arms. "Maybe I do. Get carried away, I mean." Shifting from one foot to the other, he continued with, "You don't know everything about me." 

"I'd like to," Lex swiftly countered. Time to push it, just a little further. "You're the most interesting person I've met in a long time." 

Was it his imagination, or did Clark flinch at that? 

"Not just anyone plays superhero in the middle of the night." Now he took the direct approach. "Clark, why were you out here?" 

"I -- I thought I saw you fall." 

Lex laughed. "From where? My private plane, perhaps?" 

Clark shrugged, shaking his head. 

"Clark, Clark, Clark," and Lex stepped forwards, because he could, and he knew that Clark wouldn't run away. "I am touched by your concern for me." He reached out. They'd been close before, but never quite crossed the invisible boundary. It was different now, and Lex gently placed his hand on Clark's forearm, forcing the contact, and even through the layer of cloth, Lex could feel the heat of Clark's body pulsating. A rhythm, a heartbeat. [So warm.] 

He leaned in so he could whisper in Clark's ear. "I'm glad you came." 

"Um," Clark managed, "me too. I mean, I'm glad I came, no, I'm glad that I found _you_ and not a dead you or something that wasn't you at all...." Clark broke off, embarrassed, but Lex wasn't prepared to let go of him just yet. 

"Come by tomorrow. After school." It wasn't a question at all and Lex knew that Clark would obey. 

Clark nodded, and with a mumbled goodbye, he pulled away and loped back to his house. Lex watched him, feeling strangely bereft, but knowing that the wheels were already in motion and what he had told Clark that very first day, about their future, was true. 

* 

"Lex?" Clark's voice echoed through the empty hall, but upon receiving no answer, he continued indoors regardless. Watching from the remote monitor, Lex allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. He hadn't known Clark that long, still, he could read him. 

He'd left a note attached to the inner door. It was simple, direct, and there was no way Clark could dismiss it. The only question was -- would he follow the instructions, or would he pick up on the fact that Lex was toying with him? 

Suddenly Lex shivered, for Clark had lifted his gaze and was staring directly into the hidden camera. Clark couldn't possibly have noticed it, unless this was further proof of what Lex already suspected. 

"Basement," Clark echoed, reading the note, and a strange look crossed his face, one that Lex couldn't quite decipher. There shouldn't be anything unsettling about a basement, it was one of the less decadent areas of the house and should help Clark feel more at home. 

Lex watched as Clark took the note and turned slowly, apparently assessing his surroundings. As far as Lex knew, Clark had never been in his basement (or more accurately, dungeon) but he knew that Clark was a resourceful boy. Teenager. Man, if you looked at him and threw aside the annoying concerns of chronological age. Clark certainly didn't act like a fifteen year old, which could also explain the vague look of suspicion on his face. Castle, dungeon, and who knew what kind of medieval torture instruments could have been imported across to maintain the authenticity of the place? 

Not that Lex had any intention of using them just yet. Not unless -- until -- Clark asked him. 

"Lex?" His name was said more hesitantly this time as Clark descended the stairs. 

"Clever boy," Lex whispered to himself. 

Strange how Clark was already staring directly at him, even though Lex was safely hidden in the shadows a good two hundred feet away. (So he'd had some modifications made, because walls often got in the way.) "Are you down here?" 

"Over here, Clark," Lex responded, keeping his voice level. No sign of anticipation, nothing that would give it away. "I'm glad you came." 

"Me too," Clark smiled, the boyish charm shining from him and it almost caused a minor pang, if Lex allowed himself to feel emotion. "Why are we down here?" 

"Come over here and I'll show you." 

There was no hesitation on Clark's face, just trusting faith as he stepped forwards across the large expanse that was the basement floor. Lex looked away. He couldn't stand to see such careless innocence, such misguided _faith_ that caused Clark to glance once at the walls, but never up. 

When Clark was halfway to him, Lex pushed the button. 

A car came crashing down from the roof. 

Clark never had time to react;, only Lex flinched, as he watched the scene play before him as he'd perfectly orchestrated it, and he wondered why his heart was constricting in tune to the sounds of grinding metal. This was wrong, because a Luthor did not _feel_ , and besides, Clark wouldn't be hurt. 

Right? 

He was brilliant and he'd watched Clark for a long time now, suspecting the truth but knowing the only way to achieve irrefutable scientific proof was to test the subject under controlled conditions. In being a scientist, Lex knew that his actions were perfectly justified. 

But it had been a good thirty seconds now since the car had hit bottom, and still there was no movement from the pile of metal. 

For the first time in not enough years, Lex felt the cold twist of fear, and this time, it was nothing to do with his father. 

He could pretend, that was it. Say it was nothing more than an accident, that his mechanic had left the car winched up in the roof and failed to secure it properly. Surely the insurance would cover any medical expenses? He refused to let himself think of the other option, that he'd be paying out the Kents for accidentally killing his son, just as his father had taught him. 

Still there was silence, save for a clock ticking in the back of Lex's mind as he left the safety of the hidden corner, left that damned release button behind, because it had been a temptation, nothing more, he hadn't ever planned to kill Clark, right? It was an accident! He didn't want to go near the rubble but the more time passed, the more suspicious it would look, and Lex couldn't believe he was thinking these things when Clark -- his friend -- could be dead. 

Silence, endless silence. Lex couldn't do anything. He paused by the edge of the car, gut twisting as he realised that the _thing_ sticking out the front of the hood was actually a hand. A pale hand, lifeless, and he couldn't tear his gaze away from it as the bile rose in his throat. Could he ever bring himself to touch it? He'd touched it before, he _knew_ that hand. It had caressed his cheek the day he'd been brought back to life. 

The hand moved. 

"Shit!" Lex couldn't help himself. He jumped back as the dead hand proceeded to demonstrate just how undead it actually was. 

"Um," and there was an embarrassed cough. Lex could have smiled with joy, if he'd known how, but the strange emotion was being quickly swallowed up with another - power-hungry euphoria. "Lex -- I think your car fell on me." 

"I think it did." 

"Do you think you could, maybe, help me out?" 

"Oh, I think you're quite capable of that yourself." 

A pause, a long one, but not nearly so fraught with tension as the last one. "Um, I don't think so," the boy was obviously lying, "because, um, it kind of managed to crash around me and I was protected in the middle, you know, like an air pocket except it was a car pocket. So I'm okay in here but I don't think I can-" 

Lex saved Clark the trouble of trying to think up more excuses. "Clark, you tore the roof from my old car. I'm sure you can punch out a window or two, whatever you need...." He walked around, reassessing the wreckage. "Where exactly are you?" 

But Clark had gone quiet. 

Lex watched as the metal shuddered and Clark extracted himself with an unusual grace, reminiscent of a ballerina. He stood before Lex, hands in his pockets, staring at the ground. 

"Well," Lex said. 

"Lex, I can explain," Clark said softly, like he was afraid. 

"I don't want another excuse," he countered swiftly. "I thought we were friends, Clark. Friends don't keep secrets from each other." 

"Friends don't drop cars on each other's heads." 

Lex held up his hands. "Okay, you've got me there. I'm sorry, Clark, but believe me, I knew I wouldn't hurt you. I just wanted to know the truth." 

"When did you figure it out?" Clark said sullenly. Then, with more of a worried note, "How many other people know? I don't want to be a freak, Lex, I just want to be normal." 

"Clark, look at me." When Clark refused, Lex reached out and lifted the boy's chin up. Strange, how someone so tall could still manage to shrink like a frightened puppy. "Why would you want to be normal when the power you have can allow you to do great things?" 

Clark shook his head. "It's not that simple." 

"It can be." 

"No!" Clark was actually yelling now, and Lex flinched under the assault of betrayal that was pouring from his eyes. "You of all people should understand, Lex. You're a freak too!" 

His heart tightened, froze just that little bit more. "I managed to deal with it. Why can't you?" 

Stalking around the room, Clark shot back, "They'd take me away. Test me. Just like you did, only worse, and everyone would _know_. I'd never have a chance at a normal life." 

"You can't have a normal life, Clark." 

"I want to." He sounded so young then, so lost, and it was exactly what Lex needed to hear. 

"I could protect you," Lex offered, hesitantly, as if the idea had only just occurred to him. "I haven't told anyone else about my little experiment, and no one ever has to know but the two of us." 

"So what do you get out of it?" Clark was catching on fast. 

"Nothing, Clark." Nothing but your protection when it's needed. "We're friends, aren't we?" Seeing the defiant look in Clark's eyes, he didn't give Clark the chance to answer that. "I'll keep your secret, and you can keep mine." 

"I don't know your secrets." 

Lex tilted his head, assessing Clark, and reflecting on how perfect it could be. "I'm going to do great things. You can be there, right by my side. You can have the truck you've always dreamed of, you can have," he gestured expansively, "anything you want." 

"In return for selling my soul to the devil?" 

That actually hurt, and Lex said softly, "I'm not the devil." 

Clark sighed, and perched on the edge of the wrecked car, his head in his hands. "I don't know what to think. How did you figure it out? I've been so careful!" 

Lex couldn't answer him, because how could he say that it had come to him in a flash of inspiration? A flash accompanied by the disconcerting knowledge that he'd fallen into the middle of a field with apparently every memory intact save for how he came to be there, and how Clark had become the only conquest worth winning? 

"I know you, Clark," he said. It was true, and for a moment, the world spun with possibility as that unnamed emotion threatened to creep into his mind. Where he could say something and make it all so different, give Clark a reason to believe in him again. 

But he wasn't strong enough and the moment was gone. 

"I guess I'm yours then," Clark said listlessly, not realising how the words sounded, not realising how true they would become. 

* 

Midnight. The commonly called witching hour. No, Lex reflected as he detected the tell-tale trace of the corn stalks in the distance being buffeted like a single, straight line wind, it was the bewitching hour, because with every passing day, Clark Kent managed to bewitch him just a little more. 

And it wasn't merely the physical attraction; the more Lex discovered of Clark's abilities, the more enamoured he found himself, because of the _possibilities_. The distant wind became a blur, moving gracefully through the night air until he was presented with Clark's flushed face. "Punctual as always," Lex commented. 

Clark half-grimaced in response. "I almost didn't make it. I didn't think my parents would ever go to bed." The arrangement they had was dangerous at best, but people, most of all the Kents, would begin to notice if Clark spent every free hour at the Luthor mansion. Lex knew they'd made significant progress in testing Clark's abilities but there was still so much more to be done, and between Clark's school commitments and Lex's business commitments, personal time was at a premium. 

With the midnight visits, Clark could then spend his Saturdays at the library (after chores) where he could nap and not rouse suspicion. At least, that was the ideal scenario, but Lex could only wonder how long it would last. He personally slept odd hours, but Clark's life was a different story. 

"So...what do I do first?" His voice interrupted the silence, momentarily disturbing Lex. There was something sweetly seductive about the midnight air, more so now that he had someone to share it with. Again his gaze was drawn to the heavens. 

"Look," Lex said, laying his hand on Clark's arm and inclining his head towards the moon. "Did you know that I've never looked at a full moon like this before?" 

"Seriously?" The gentle sarcasm in Clark's voice shouldn't have been a surprise, but it was, and Lex turned to face the boy. 

"My father wasn't much for stargazing." 

"Oh." 

The answer, so soft, spoke volumes of unease. Lex didn't speak of his father and Clark knew that. 

"But this," and Lex gestured again. "The full moon, the stars that aren't erased by city lights but by moonlight, the very tang of the midnight air...." Realising he was sounding like a would-be poet, he paused. "The clouds, they remind me of slopes of ice." It was true, the odd quality of the strata seemed to shimmer in the natural light. Lex breathed, wondering just why he'd missed this all of his life. 

"I've never been skiing," Clark said in an offhand manner. Lex blinked. 

"Well, where would I go? Up the great mountain of Kansas?" 

Yes, Clark was definitely feeling snarky tonight, and Lex decided that he liked it. Unexpected, because he tended to see him as innocent, but there was a world-weariness in those impossibly young eyes sometimes. Somehow, Clark had seen too much. 

Chucking softly, Lex said, "You're right, you wouldn't have been skiing. We should go sometime." 

He watched Clark, seeing the sudden light in his eyes, the hint of a smile that tried so hard to stay hidden. "Who knows what you'd be able to do on the slopes." 

Clark turned away, so that the delightful expression was gone and Lex was left with the sight of slightly-hunched shoulders. A change had come but Lex couldn't fathom why. 

"Let's go," he said, making the snap decision that he'd waxed lyrical (oh god, now he was even _thinking_ like a bad poet) over the moon for long enough and the odd serenity was something he should try to bottle. Weird stuff, it wasn't him, but maybe that was the impact that Clark had, making him see things in a new way. 

More likely, though, he was just tired. 

"So what are we doing tonight? More weight lifting?" His tone told Lex that this was the last thing Clark wanted to be doing. For a moment, Lex was tempted to say yes, but Clark had been so _good_ and perhaps desired a reward. 

"I was thinking along the lines of speed trials," Lex improvised. "We know how fast you run, but how much control do you have at those speeds?" 

Clark got an adorable furrow in his forehead as he pondered the question. "I never thought about it. Does it matter?" 

"It matters if you're chasing someone over the edge of a cliff and you have to stop at the last second." 

"But you forget, Lex, there are no cliffs in Kansas." That time it was definite teasing, and Lex met Clark's eyes and laughed with him. For a moment, things were good, and they could almost push aside the reason for all of this. Possibility hovered, to tip over the precipice, or fall safely on the slope of stability? 

There was a plan, a destiny, and the midnight trials began. There was no other choice. 

Some hours later Lex sensed his energy was waning even though Clark seemed to be at full strength, not even perspiring. He wondered if it was possible to make the boy sweat. "Do you ever sleep?" he asked, idly. There were faint circles beneath Clark's eyes that spoke of haunting. 

"Yes. I have weird dreams, though." 

"Such as?" 

Clark looked away and Lex detected the slightest hint of a flush beneath the blazing fluorescent lights of the basement. "Oh, just things like moving really fast. Lots about the people I lo- I care about, but it's always weird motion, like time's slowed down for them or something." He paused, taking a deep breath. "You're in the dreams sometimes." 

The boy was still hiding something. Lex felt a pang of regret which only increased his determination that, someday, Clark would tell him everything freely. All it required was to strengthen Clark's beliefs, to prove to him that Lex was everything he'd ever need. 

Yawning, Lex realised that dawn was probably breaking. An idea crossed his mind, something that would be the perfect test for Clark. "Don't you have to be home soon?" 

Clark glanced at his watch; the kid probably knew the exact second that the sun would peek over the horizon. "Dad twisted his knee so Mom's gonna make him stay in bed a little longer than usual. I've got time." 

Taking the stopwatch from Clark's hands (having proved that Clark had faster reflexes than Lex when it came to taking exact readings), he said, "Do you drink coffee, Clark?" 

"Sometimes, not usually, only if I'm at the Beanery. Why?" 

Lex just stared at Clark, raising one eyebrow while trying to perfect the look of someone who has an idea, but doesn't really want to say it. "There's the most fantastic coffee shop in a little town halfway to Metropolis. Opens at dawn and has lattes to die for." 

"You want coffee." 

Lex just stared at him, subtly implying. 

"You want me to be your coffee boy." How could the words sound bitter? 

"Think of it as the ultimate test, Clark." He moved closer, so that his words were whispered and suggestive, the perfect temptation to allow Clark to realise his greatness. "Just how fast can you run, anyway?" 

And when Clark came back with the coffee, it was still lukewarm. 

Lex tipped it into a mug which he threw in the microwave, hitting the reheat button (it was one thing he knew how to do, at least). "Stay for breakfast," he entreated. 

"I should go." Even after that incredible run, Clark didn't seem the least bit exhausted. Either that, or he was really good at hiding it. Yet when Lex looked closer, there was a weariness, and the perpetual light in Clark's eyes seemed dimmed. 

"One muffin. For me?" The last words were a tease and Lex knew it, but it was all part of the plan. 

Clark was shaking his head as he slid into a chair, muttering, "The things I do, just because you bat your eyelashes at me." There was a dark undercurrent to the words and Lex hesitated, wondering if he'd pushed too far. 

He grabbed a couple of muffins from the fridge and, along with his newly re-heated coffee, settled himself at the table opposite Clark. "You really ran half way to Metropolis. And back." 

"You think I didn't?" 

"No, no, no. I have my proof." He gestured towards the now-empty styrofoam cup. 

"And what if I didn't bring you proof? Would you still believe me then?" 

"Clark, I-" 

They were interrupted by the sound of shoes stalking through the empty corridors, unexpected at this hour, but, as Lex grimly reflected, recognising the distinctive walk, when had his father ever been predictable? 

"Good, you're up." The words were short and to the point as Lionel's gaze flickered across Clark for barely a second before dismissing him and refocussing on Lex. "We have much to discuss." 

"After breakfast," Lex swiftly countered. "Would you like a muffin?" His tone was enough to upset his father, but Lex knew that with Clark there, the pretence of decorum would be maintained. 

"I'm not hungry." Lionel glared at the offending muffin and Lex returned it to the table, all the while willing his body to stay seated and not jump to his feet as his father demanded. 

He took a slow, deliberate sip of his coffee. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?" Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Clark had slid down in his chair. 

"If you'd paid attention to business once in a while," and that was a definite glare delivered in Clark's direction, "you'd have no trouble figuring it out. In fact, you should have been on your way to Metropolis 3 days ago!" The frostiness in the voice resounded through the room and the dawn light suddenly seemed cold. "I need your focus, Lex." 

"Didn't think you needed me at all." The moment he'd said it, he couldn't believe it had slipped out, not with _Clark_ here, but when he looked again, Clark was gone and his whisper of farewell hadn't even been noticed. 

"You are my son, Lex," Lionel stated, and that one sentence covered absolutely everything: every hurt, every advantage, every slight and opportunity and the myriad of things in between that were all but facets of a complex relationship that Lex could never hope to control. "You are _my_ son." Mine. 

* 

The scene was almost poignant. Lex leaned against his truck, arms crossed, giving the impression of cool confidence while desperately wishing he could hear what was being said. The front door to the Kent's house was wide open, and he'd positioned himself perfectly so that he could at least watch the heated exchange between Clark and his parents. 

Clark pushed them aside, heading back into the recesses of the house. Lex waited. Jonathan Kent sent a look of fury in his direction and Lex merely shrugged. Clark was sixteen today. If he wanted to leave home, there was nothing the law could really do to stop it. 

The boy in question strode out of the house, two boxes hoisted on his arms. Lex mused that the entire operation would have proceeded much more quickly if the doorframe wasn't so small, knowing Clark could have carried all his worldly possessions at once if necessary. The boxes were thrown into the back of the truck, and as Clark passed by, Lex caught his arm. 

"How many more?" 

Clark glanced at the ground, and Lex was suddenly struck by the air of -- melancholy? -- that surrounded him. It was to be expected. He was moving out of home because it was best for both of them. Testing and training would be so much easier if Clark lived at the Luthor manor, and to hell with public image (not that they could pin anything on Lex anyway). Lex knew this, Clark knew this, and Lex knew that Clark knew he had no choice. 

"That's the last, I just have to," and Clark inclined his head towards his parents, who were now standing outside the house. There were tears on Martha's cheeks and Lex looked away. 

Clark returned to them, opening his arms and receiving a reluctant hug from his mother which soon turned into something much more desperate. "You don't have to go," Lex heard her whisper. 

"I have to, Mom. I -- I can learn so much." 

"Son, if he so much as lays a finger on you...." Jonathan's voice was low and threatening, almost causing Lex to shiver, but with no proof, Jonathan had no power. Then again, Lex hadn't laid a finger on Clark -- yet. After the incident with the car Clark had withdrawn from him, ever so slightly, but it still stung. The sparkle in his eyes had been diminished and try as he might, Lex couldn't put it back. 

He hoped that time would change that. 

Grinning at Clark, he tapped his wristwatch. Clark looked from one parent to the other, reluctance on his face. "I have to go." 

Jonathan turned and stalked inside, obviously not wanting to watch this any longer, while Martha pulled her son close for one last hug. "You come by and visit us every day. Promise?" 

Clark just nodded, his eyes meeting Lex's over her shoulder. 

"And I want you to remember that any time, for whatever reason, you're welcome home. We won't judge you, Clark. We love you, and I wish...." 

Wish what? Lex wondered when the sentence went unfinished. That your son wasn't leaving you for a Luthor? That Lex Luthor had never figured out your alien son's secrets? That Lex had never come into your lives at all? 

"I'll be fine," Clark reassured her. "Lex is going to help me." 

"Just remember where you came from, who you are," Martha implored as Clark began to walk away. 

"That's what I'm going to find out," he replied softly, so softly that only Lex could hear. Their eyes met for a moment, Lex trying to communicate the joy of possibility, but what he saw in Clark's eyes now was nothing but mild despair. Lex paused -- Clark wanted this, didn't he? They'd discussed it together and Lex had pointed out all of the benefits. No more sneaking around after hours, no more distractions, because Clark's time would be completely his, and in the greater scheme of things, that was all that mattered. 

"Lex." The soft voice brought him out of his reverie, and he realised that Clark was already in the truck and ready to go. Lex jumped into the driver's seat and started the engine, giving a half wave to Martha. It wasn't cruel, it was reality. Clark's gaze remained firmly straight ahead. 

The drive to the castle was silent. Lex attempted to lighten the mood by putting on some music but the last CD he'd been playing was a Faustian-inspired classical piece, terribly inappropriate when it began blaring through the speakers like a march of doom. 

Once home, Clark still didn't speak as he exited the truck and loaded all six boxes into his arms at once. (There would have been more, but Lex had promised Clark that his new furnishings were far more appropriate for a person of his talents.) Lex found himself trailing after the boy as he ascended to his new room, conveniently close to Lex's own. Ulterior motives aside, it would be nice to have company. 

"Welcome home," Lex found himself saying, just to fill the silence. It was almost worse than it was with Lionel -- this was supposed to be a great day, the day Clark took his first step towards independence. So why was he dragging his feet, as if each step was one step closer to his execution? 

He caught Clark's arm after they'd entered his new room, the boxes safely deposited on the floor. "You're happy to be here, aren't you?" 

"Of course," Clark replied dully. 

"No," and Lex spun Clark around, forcing the boy to look at him. The changeable eyes refused to meet his. "You're not happy, Clark." 

He shrugged, still staring at the floor. "'s just harder than I thought, leaving home." 

That wasn't it, and Lex wished he had some means of making Clark open up to him. He used to without a problem, but everything was different now. "Tell me what you need -- anything -- and I'll get it for you." He smiled in what he hoped was a charming manner; it was the smile that Clark had never been able to resist before. 

"I don't need anything." 

"Do you want some help unpacking?" As he glanced around, Lex realised that he'd never unpacked anything in his life, but if it cheered Clark up then it surely couldn't be that bad. "Or we could go play pool, go swimming, perhaps?" He was on a roll now. "How about some champagne to celebrate your arrival? This house is yours now." 

But Clark was shaking his head, saying, "No, I just -- I need -- " 

"Anything." 

"- space," Clark finished. "I'm really tired, I just want to rest." 

Lex swallowed, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. This was hardly how he'd pictured Clark's welcome -- there were supposed to be smiles, celebrations, and maybe even a little indulgence in something he hadn't permitted himself before. Instead there was nothing but melancholy and Clark turned from him yet again. 

Taking a deep breath, Lex mustered all of his resolve. He could fix this, in a way that was dangerous, to be sure, but he wasn't wrong. Luthors were never wrong, and it was time that he proved to Clark just how good this all could be. He slid his arms around Clark, joining his hands at Clark's waist and straining up on his toes to lean his head on the boy's shoulder. "You know that I care about you, don't you?" 

There was an almost breathless, "Yes," and Lex could feel Clark's heart hammering, even from behind. 

"You know I just want you to be all you can be. We're going to be great together." He dropped his voice a little lower; seduction was often the key to power. "You're very special, Clark. Special to me." 

And it was his greatest reward when Clark turned his head far enough so that their breath softly mingled. "Lex, I-" 

"I know," finished Lex, and took the mouth that was offered to him in a clumsy first kiss that soon grew to be so much more. He twisted Clark around so they could meet more equally as he caressed those lips with his own, carded his fingers through Clark's hair, and felt the answering passion as Clark finally surrendered and began to kiss him back. 

* 

Sometimes, the nights were quiet. It was a rarity those first few weeks, each night filled with a blaze of noise, colour, and quite often passion when the testing was complete. Both the sound and the silence gave rise to the same inevitable outcome, the lack of conversation. It was something Lex found himself missing, their easy communication had been part of Clark's attractiveness. 

Things were different, now. 

Lex sat watching the last strands of twilight fade over the horizon, and finally, there was sound. A footstep, so soft, but Lex had trained himself to hear it and he didn't need to turn to know that Clark had come home. 

"Your friends, Peter and Chloe, I believe, were here earlier." 

"Oh." Clark answered softly, then came to sit near Lex on the outdoor setting, not quite beside him and it was an action that spoke of both discomfort and guilt. 

Not that Lex was going to ask Clark where he'd been. Having been in Metropolis the last two days attending to urgent business matters, Lex had expected to find Clark waiting for him when he returned. The truth had been a disappointment, to say the least. 

"They were quite surprised that you weren't here. Said they hadn't seen much of you recently." He fixed Clark with a piercing stare and Clark looked away. 

"I was just out...running." 

"Running?" 

Clark shrugged, staring at the horizon. "There's a lot on my mind lately." 

"Clark," and Lex found the words tumbling from his mouth despite the fact that his rational mind was telling him to be quiet, "where were you?" 

Again, that guilty silence. "I could save the world, you know." 

"From what?" 

"I could break it just as easily." 

"Clark-" 

"Do you trust me, Lex?" he asked suddenly, fixing Lex with a piercing gaze. "Really, truly? Because if you did, you wouldn't care about where I was. You'd just be happy to see me." 

"I am happy to see you." He shifted in his chair, suddenly even more uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. 

"Just like Pete and Chloe," Clark continued, apparently ignoring Lex's response. "And my parents -- always wanting to know where I am, what I'm doing, but maybe it's better that they don't know." He stood, pacing. "I could hurt them, Lex. Do you know what I did today?" 

Lex shook his head. 

"I stopped a car accident. Saw the driver spinning out of control and just went and stood in the way. I knew I could take it." 

"Did they recognise you?" The words were out before Lex could assess their impact on Clark, who instantly appeared crestfallen. 

"No, you don't have to worry about that. I was careful." 

"That's good," and now Lex stood, joining Clark on the edge of the terrace and placing one hand lightly on his arm. "I think you're beginning to understand." 

Clark turned to him. "I'm tired of hiding, Lex. I'm tired of lying to my friends." 

"You can't tell them." He said it fiercely, suddenly afraid that already Chloe and Pete knew Clark's secret, and if that happened, others would inevitably find out, not through malicious intent but via the law of secrets. "The more people know, the less likely it is that you'll be able to stay. Here." He didn't need to add that "here" was the only place in the world that Clark could learn about his abilities while maintaining the pretence of being human. 

"I know." Clark's voice was deep with sorrow. "I know." 

* 

"Hey Clark!" Both Clark and Lex turned at the female voice to see Chloe racing towards them. Lex realised that he hadn't seen the girl -- or any of Clark's friends, come to think of it -- in quite some time. Given that it was Clark's summer vacation from school he'd presumed that said friends were away visiting the relatives (exotic vacation destinations were not the norm for the citizens of Smallville). But there was Chloe, smiling and acting like it was the greatest thing ever to see Clark. 

Clark smiled broadly in response, saying her name and then asking, "What've you been up to?" 

"I got an internship with the local paper!" she announced proudly, and then gestured towards her notebook. "That's what I'm doing here today, writing an article on the local fair." 

Lex glanced around, wondering again just why he was here. Clark had wanted to go for some inane reason and Lex had rationalised that it would probably be a good place to test his improved abilities. After all, Clark could now lift a pile of four cars with ease but that said nothing of his capacity to handle vertigo-inducing fair rides. 

At least that was what Lex told himself. Then again, it was probably good for Clark to be somewhere other than the castle. Business often called Lex away and Lex knew that Clark didn't visit his parents much. "They'd see straight through me," Clark admitted one night after their passion had been temporarily sated. "I'm just not ready to deal with...that...yet." 

Lex had let it go. After all, Clark was his, and nothing could separate them. With Clark's strength, one would be foolish to try. For the thousandth time, Lex reflected that he was lucky to have Clark on his side. He knew exactly what Clark could do, and he'd seen the boy in action several times now as he battled the mutations that Smallville so regularly provided. It was almost scary how many bodies were now lurking at the bottom of the Luthor lake. Mutants, all of them, but Lex was beginning wonder just what would happen if Clark was caught. 

"...and it was on the second page!" Chloe finished. Lex nodded appreciatively, trying to make it look as if he'd heard every word. Clark, in the meantime, was genuinely congratulating his friend. "What about you, Clark?" she asked, looking at him shrewdly. "Having fun in the land of the rich and famous?" 

Clark coughed, looked down, and Lex knew he was blushing. "I, um, I've been working out a lot." 

"I'll bet," Chloe replied, glancing from Clark to Lex and back again. She'd probably noticed the designer clothes Clark wore, a far cry from his old uniform of homespun simplicity. "People are still talking about the two of you, you know." 

"And what would they be saying?" Lex raised an eyebrow. 

She leaned forward and whispered, "I think you already know." 

Whatever clever reply Lex could have come up with was suddenly interrupted by even louder than usual screams erupting from the northern side of the fairground. As Lex and Chloe stood there and watched, the giant Ferris Wheel continued its inexorable tilt towards the ground where it would not only seriously injure its occupants, but innocent bystanders as well. 

"Come on!" Chloe shouted, tugging on Lex's arm as she dragged him closer to ground zero. He let himself be propelled along, knowing that Clark was already on scene and probably trying to hold the huge structure up. 

Or battling a crazed clown brandishing a blowtorch that could apparently cut through metal. Clark feinted to the left (the fencing lessons were paying off) as the clown lunged forwards and then executed a perfect flip before attacking Clark from behind. There was a sickly green emanating from the clown's hands and he gave a fiendish cackle as Clark stumbled under the crack of the blowtorch. 

Lex held his breath. They knew just what the green rocks did to Clark, and even after all this time, they'd found nothing to combat it. 

"Somebody help that boy!" a woman screamed but the area was empty, most having fled the scene at the first sign that the Ferris Wheel was going to topple. The screams from the ride continued but Clark was staggering under the assault and for the first time Lex realised that, superfreak or not, Clark couldn't be in two places at once. 

"Do something!" Chloe shouted at him, her reporter's notebook forgotten as she realised that _her_ friend was in trouble. 

"I -- I can't." 

"Of course you can!" she shouted back. "God, Lex, if you care for him even the tiniest bit you would be out there with him, you bastard!" 

"You don't...understand...." he trailed off as Chloe threw up her hands in disgust and raced to stand beside Clark. She managed to smack the clown a good one with her notebook before the murderous rage was turned on her. Clark lay on the ground, panting, but when he lifted his head the pain and horror in his eyes was obvious. 

"Help her," Clark gasped, the words piercing Lex to the core. But he couldn't. He was powerless; what did Clark expect him to do anyway? Kill the clown with his cell phone? The blowtorch was suddenly switched back on and a wave of fire seared above Chloe's fallen body, the heat singeing the edges of Lex's suit. 

The falling wheel dropped another ten degrees, sending fresh screams over the scene, and the last few bystanders turned tail and ran. Clark staggered to his feet but instead of attacking the clown again, he reached for Chloe, his body covering hers as the second attack of flames washed over them. Lex desperately searched the scene, looking for anything that would help, something to incapacitate the clown even temporarily to allow Clark to get his strength back, but there was nothing. 

Nothing save for a tragic miracle as the supporting struts on the ride finally gave out and the entire structure came crashing to the ground around Clark, Chloe, and the clown. The screams gave way to sobs, moans, and silence. 

* 

"Six people." 

Lex dropped his fork with weary resignation. The very idea of dinner was a farce anyway. 

"Six people died today because of me." 

"It wasn't your fault." It was mine, Lex silently added. "And you saved Chloe." To everyone's surprise, Chloe had escaped with nothing more than minor burns and a nasty bump on the head. The riders hadn't been so lucky. And as for the clown -- the squashed, mutant clown -- it was another mess that Lex had scraped up and hidden in his laboratory for the time being. 

"Saved her?" Clark laughed bitterly. "She wouldn't have even been hurt if it wasn't for me. No, I had to go charging in there and forget all about the falling ride, just because of that stupid green stuff." 

A new idea crossed Lex's mind, of Clark somehow being drawn to it, but now was hardly the time to bring up theory. 

"What use are my abilities if I can't even help my friends?" Clark said morosely. 

Sighing, Lex leaned his head in his hands. "Clark, let's think about this. That ride was falling. Sure, you might have been able to hold it up for a little longer, but even you're not that strong and there was no way of getting the people down." 

"Yes there was." Softly, so softly, like an admission of guilt. 

"What?" 

"I can fly, Lex." 

Lex stared at him, stunned. Clark could fly, and hadn't told him? Hadn't thought to give him some kind of demonstration? He slammed his hand on the table in anger. "And you think to tell me this now?" 

"I don't have to tell you everything." For the first time, Clark was openly defiant. But then he crumbled, under Lex's withering glare, or his own guilt, Lex couldn't tell. "I was going to show you. It was supposed to be a surprise. Guess it doesn't matter now; I'm not saviour material after all." 

Lex couldn't look at him. Couldn't touch him, because all he could feel was guilt and betrayal. "Today was...an isolated incident. An unfortunate accident." 

"I did it all wrong." 

"We all make choices, Clark. There's no way of knowing which is the right one." 

Clark turned his back on Lex, then, muttering, "You're not so great with choices either." 

Lex was silent. Waiting. 

"You could have stopped Chloe. You _should_ have stopped her. Just like you should have shouted some sense in to me." He didn't say a word about Lex's lack of help, and Lex didn't want to bring it up, but Clark had to hear his side of the story. His excuse. 

"I wanted to help," he offered. "But I -- " 

"You froze." 

Faced with an acceptable truth, there was nothing Lex could say in his defence. "I'm sorry, Clark. I couldn't think, I was-" 

"You're the brains, I'm the action. Isn't that the way it goes?" Clark was sounding jaded, and further away than he'd ever been before. "That's the reason you brought me here, not to fulfil my destiny but to fulfil yours." 

"Clark-" 

"Why else would Lex Luthor take interest in a fifteen year old boy? Seduce him away from his family? Spend months and millions of dollars testing him, pushing every ability, but conveniently forgetting to teach him how to make _choices_?" 

"I-" 

"No!" Clark burst out, whirling around. His eyes were blazing and it was the first time Lex had seen that expression on his face. "No more excuses, Lex!" He took a predatory step forward. "It's my turn to make a decision for once. My turn to take control." Another step, and he was towering over Lex, and for the first time, Lex felt the slightest twinge of fear. "What is this thing between us, Lex? And don't tell me it's love because I'm not in the mood for being lied to again." 

He grasped Lex's chair roughly, turning it away from the table and settling himself on Lex's knees, maintaining the menacing glare as he ran his fingers up and down Lex's tie, pausing at the throat. "In fact, I don't want to hear anything from you tonight," and Lex could do nothing but gasp in surprise as Clark attacked him with his mouth, the kisses harshly erotic. As the hands tore at his clothes, seizing him rather than touching him in all the right (wrong?) places, Lex knew that it was his fault. 

A hand travelled up his thigh, seizing him forcibly, and he gasped. This was Clark, but it couldn't be Clark, because Clark didn't do this. Clark didn't just take what he wanted but there was no doubt that it was Clark's tongue currently tracing a line across his collarbone, Clark's fingers digging trails down his back. He moaned. 

The chair cracked; they crashed to the floor, but Clark didn't let up and Lex felt his body respond even as his mind screamed that this was wrong. Rough hands took what they wanted, and Clark was biting his shoulder as he pushed inside with no preparation. Lex froze, but all too soon the agonising burn was replaced with a wave of pleasure as Clark slammed into him again and again. His name was repeated over and over as a litany, mourning for the people who had died, proving that they were alive, and while _this_ was between them it couldn't be bad. Couldn't be wrong. Because they were two freaks who had nothing but each other. 

Hours later, Lex opened his eyes to the sounds of soft sobbing. It was dark, probably sometime approaching dawn, and there was a splintered piece of wood sticking in his back. The dining room was a mess and Lex was grateful that the staff had demonstrated the good judgment not to enter. 

Slowly sitting up and wincing more than once, Lex allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness before catching sight of a naked body hunched by the window. Faint starlight illuminated the shudders of his body as he tried to cry silently, his face hidden by his arms as he rocked in a foetal position. 

Lex said nothing, but softly padded to his lover's side. He placed a hand on the shuddering shoulder, and upon getting no reaction, wrapped himself around the boy's body. He couldn't explain why, but there was still something that drew him to Clark, wanted to help him, have him, even while his own body bore the deep scratches of a seriously warped relationship. He needed Clark, needed that power, and times like this were the optimum to take control of the vulnerability. The irrational side of his brain refused to agree with this logic, but Lex ruthlessly ignored it. 

He held Clark like that until morning, when the dawn softly broke over the lake in the distance and birds started singing like there was nothing wrong in the world. 

"I should leave." 

The sound almost startled Lex, but he continued his soothing caresses. He only needed to say one word in response, and that was, "No." 

"I could have killed you last night, Lex." 

"But you didn't." 

"But I _could_ have," Clark insisted. "I'm evil, Lex, you don't know what I'm capable of." 

"I know exactly what you're capable of," Lex swiftly countered, "and I know you couldn't hurt me. You've saved me, Clark, time after time you've saved me." 

"Not yesterday." 

There was no answer to that, so Lex shrugged. "Forget yesterday. No, don't. I want you to remember that you saved Chloe, even when you were hurting. That's got to be worth something." 

A pause. Then, in a broken voice, "I am so sorry." Clark shivered again and Lex wished he could make it go away. He needed Clark. He _needed_ him. "I owe you everything. You've done so much for me and I -- I can never repay you." 

"But you can." 

"How?" And Clark actually looked at him then, his red-rimmed eyes full of both contrition and hope. 

"Stay." 

* 

The ringing of the doorbell was a sound so unexpected that for a moment, Lex didn't know what it was. Deliveries came through the side entrance, and as for visitors, their numbers, which had never been that great to start with, had dwindled to almost nothing in recent months, ever since the awkward dinner with the Kents that would never be repeated. 

He contemplated allowing the staff to answer the door, but after the previous day's incidents, Lex surmised that it was most probably a reporter coming to ask for their version of events. They'd given statements (creatively worded, of course) but the media rarely gave up until each and every word was sensationalised to the fullest. 

Adjusting his jacket, and the collar so that no bruises showed through (and he had years of experience at that), Lex opened the door. He certainly didn't expect to see Pete standing there, shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Um hi, Le...I mean, Mr. Luthor. Is Clark in?" 

So much like a little boy asking if his friend could come out to play, but both were aware of the undercurrent of tension. Still, Lex could afford to be generous. He _wanted_ Clark to have friends and he needed his friends more than ever at the moment. Just as long as the friends didn't get in the way of what was important. 

"Come on in," he offered, leading Pete down the opulent hall to one of the less formal sitting rooms. "I'll just go find him." 

It wasn't hard to track down Clark, who had shut himself in his room and was staring morosely out the window. Lex hesitated at the door, not wanting to intrude. "Pete's here." 

"Pete?" At least the name got a reaction. Then the response was a little more sour. "Thought he'd forgotten I existed." 

Lex let it slide, saying, "He wants to talk to you. I think you should." 

Nodding, but not meeting Lex's eyes, Clark slid from his chair. 

Lex watched as the two friends greeted each other awkwardly, then gracefully exited the room. Knowing he shouldn't, but telling himself it was best for Clark, Lex retired to the security room where he quickly pulled up the camera focussed on that particular location. He knew, and Clark knew, that the previous day's events were not something that would easily be dismissed, and Clark probably expected him to be watching anyway; it was a perfectly reasonable assumption to make. 

"So...how have you been?" Pete began, obviously attempting cheerfulness. 

"Okay," came the monotonic reply. 

"I heard what you did yesterday." Clark looked panicked, until Pete continued with, "Saving Chloe from the psychopath. That was pretty brave. She's really grateful -- we both are." 

"Glad I could help." 

Pete turned to face his friend directly, his eyes narrowing. "You don't sound all that excited for someone who's a hero." 

"Maybe because I didn't do that much." 

Dismissing Clark's statement with a wave of his hand, Pete said, "Anyway, I'm glad you were at the fair. You could've told me you were gonna be there -- it feels like we haven't hung out in months!" He was attempting to lighten the mood but still Clark refused to be drawn in, didn't smile, just stared at the wall beyond Pete's head. "Remember how we used to ride the ghost train together every year? Man, I almost peed myself sometimes, we were so scared." He laughed, but it was forced. 

"Yeah," Clark said softly. "We had a lot of fun." 

"So how about it -- you come round, we rent some stupid horror movie, get a pizza or two...." Already, Clark was shaking his head. 

"C'mon, Clark. We'll invite Chloe. She needs some cheering up." Pete paused, screwing up his eyes for a moment before making another concession. "You could even bring Lex and maybe we can all get to know him better." 

"Pete, I'd love to, it's just..." and Clark couldn't finish the sentence. Did he even know what he was trying to say? 

Giving an exasperated sigh, Pete stalked away, picking up a thousand dollar vase and idly turning it in his hands. "Lex isn't your father, Clark." 

"God no!" The reaction was so unexpected that Pete almost dropped the vase, a slightly perturbed expression crossing his face. 

"Um...let me say that again. He's not your keeper." Pete wandered back to Clark, looking him in the eye. "Is he? Because, Clark, if he's not letting you go out then that's wrong." He dropped his voice to a whisper and Lex winced. "You can walk away any time you want to. Come stay with me if you don't want to face your parents. We'll take care of you -- he may be a Luthor, but that doesn't mean that he can own a person!" 

Clark was actually animated now, shaking his head vigorously. "No, no, no, it's nothing like that. I want to be here. Lex is -- Lex is everything." 

"But is he your friend?" 

"Yes," was the instant response, but Lex couldn't see if the conviction quite reached Clark's eyes. "I owe him so much, Pete. And he's the only one who can help me." 

"With what?" Pete asked, but no answer was forthcoming. The two paced around each other in a silence that spoke volumes of discomfort. 

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Pete gave it one last attempt. "Look, Clark, I'm trying here. I miss you, okay? I know it's all girly and mushy to say things like that, but you're my best friend and I'm trying to figure out what happened." 

"Nothing happened, Pete. I'm just learning who I really am, and you're far better off without me." 

"Don't I get to be the judge of that?" 

"Not this time." 

"Clark," and Pete caught his hand, just stared at him. Finally said, "You can tell me anything. You know that, right?" 

His eyes downcast, Clark said, "Stay away from me, Pete." A pause, then a whisper, "It's safer that way." He looked so forlorn, so lost, like someone who was hurting but couldn't trust anyone with the pain. 

Pete gave him one last look, almost a glare, before throwing up his hands in disgust. "Okay then, it's your choice. See you in school next year." The final words were a taunt rather than a promise, but they seemed to have no effect on Clark, who merely escorted his former friend out and closed the door firmly behind him. 

* 

Time passed in subdued silence. The training continued, the mutants continued and Lex even watched Clark fly once or twice, but something had subtly changed and Lex reflected that their relationship had never been entirely right in the first place. Even now, it seemed as if Clark was holding back on him, suppressing the darkness, or...something else. 

They hadn't touched each other since that night. Every time Lex made some kind of advance, Clark pushed him away, muttering something about it not being safe. Lex's wounds healed, mostly, but every time Clark caught sight of a scar, he winced, and Lex winced with him. 

More than once, Lex wondered just what the hell he was doing. Months ago it had all seemed so clear: seduce Clark Kent, and you'll have the potentially most powerful person in the world on your side. The perfect thing to aid you on the way to your destiny. 

But wanting Clark and actually having him were so vastly different and Lex had never experienced...emotion like this before. He locked himself away in his lab, running endless tests on the green rocks and wondering if they were responsible for his own condition: his hairlessness, his hardened heart, or perhaps that was the only gift from his father that was worth a damn. 

His father. Who was standing by the door, glaring him in a way that meant Lex had screwed up yet again. "Your fucktoy told me you'd be down here." 

Lex refused to wince at the description of Clark. Over the past few months, he'd heard them all and despite Lex's best efforts, Lionel refused to believe that Lex's interests in the boy were for reasons other than sex. 

"Hello, Dad, how nice to see you again. I'd give you the proper welcoming hug but I wouldn't want to get hydrochloric acid on that suit of yours." 

Lionel just gave him a steely glare. "I fail to see why you're still wasting your time on this. I gave you a plant to run, not a lab so that you can play mad scientist all day." 

"I'm running the plant and it's making a tidy profit," he countered evenly. "In the meantime I'm working on a personal project that has the potential to change the world." 

His father laughed, harshly. "Don't know where you get your optimism from." 

Hardening his voice, Lex said, "I will be President someday, and you will regret every mocking word you ever said." He said it with grim certainty, not knowing where such conviction came from, but knowing that his words were true. 

Lionel gave a snort. He wandered over to where Lex was working, ignoring the dangers of various bottles of chemicals uncapped on the bench. Eyes narrowing as he took in the image of the careful dissection, he said, quite mildly, "I'm closing you down." 

Lex dropped the specimen back into the Petri dish, immediately disgusted with himself for the reaction. 

"I've decided that your exile here has lasted long enough, and despite your successes, there's really nothing to keep us in Smallville any longer. Luthors are above this." His father smiled and there was nothing even remotely paternal or caring in the expression. "Besides, I think it's time we spent some quality time together." 

Lex fought to maintain his composure , placing his palms firmly on the bench so that any residual shaking wouldn't be apparent. He could face anything; so why did his father throw him off balance so easily? A tortured history twisted from the moment his mother died, and Lionel owned him with more power than Lex could ever hope to have over anyone. A dark bruised memory surfaced, and he shuddered. 

It was a memory becoming interspersed with frightening reality as Lionel leaned closer to the experiment, the eerie glow of the rocks reflecting in his eyes. He reached out, heedless of the necessity of protection, and plucked the glowing hand from the specimen jar. Even the cauterisation had done little to diminish the smell of decay, yet Lionel didn't notice. 

"Lex," and this was the voice he feared (feared?) most of all, the gentle, seductive tone that was inevitably a precursor to violence. "Could you please explain to me why you have a human hand in your laboratory?" 

Having no answer that his father would possibly believe, Lex merely held his breath as his father turned the hand over and over, green fingertips meeting sickly pink in the harsh lighting of the room. 

Sighing heavily, Lionel continued, "You continue to defy me at every turn. Why? Haven't I taught you that jurors won't look the other way forever?" He slammed his fist on the table, causing the nitric acid to wobble dangerously. 

"I didn't kill him," Lex managed, carefully backing away while trying to give the impression that he was holding his ground. It didn't quite work. 

"Then what did you do -- grave robbing? Dig up some hapless farmer so you could continue your damn experiments?" 

"No..." 

"Then why, Lex? I've given you everything and this is how you repay me: by constantly creating problems that take far too many resources to handle?" 

Lionel was in front of him, menacing, terrifying, enraged in a way Lex hadn't seen since the last time he'd landed in hospital. A fist was raised and Lex had the sudden, irrational, hope that Clark would stay away because the last thing he wanted was for Clark to see him like this.... So worried was he over Clark's reaction that he completely missed the first blow which caught him on the side of the cheek and slammed him into the bench, glass shattering. 

His vision blurred. There were two versions of his father, both surrounded by the sickly green glow that only intensified when Clark was around. "No," he whispered as his father grabbed him by his collar and hoisted him to his feet. 

"You will stand up and take this like a man!" 

And despite the fog in his brain, the words penetrated through and he stared defiantly at his father. A man. He was a man, and this abuse was -- was something he shouldn't have to put up with ever again. The shove caught him unawares and he hit the wall, his breath knocked from him, but he seemed distanced from the pain this time, his mind ticking into overdrive as he constructed his best defence. 

A defence that was no longer necessary, because when Lex looked up again, Lionel was gone and there was no one but Clark -- a sick looking Clark -- crouched in front of him and reaching out to cradle his face. 

"It's okay, Lex, I stopped him," Clark was babbling. "I saved you, I did the right thing this time. Just like you told me, I protected you from the mutant." His eyes penetrated Lex's, a deep, worried, almost frantic gaze as his hands ran over Lex's cheek, then his scalp, and down his arms and body, searching for evidence of injury. 

"Clark," he managed, blinking his eyes furiously in an attempt to stave off the seductive pull of unconsciousness. Had he blacked out? Or had Clark's super speed rendered the end of a conflict in micro-seconds, despite the fact that the lab was riddled with the rocks Clark hated? 

And then the words began to penetrate. "Mutant?" 

"He was going to kill you," Clark insisted, almost too fervently as he put his arms around Lex and literally lifted him off the ground. "But it's okay now. We're okay. I did what I had to." 

"Clark," and each word felt thick and heavy on his tongue, "my father wasn't a mutant." 

Clark dropped him. The crash sent a new wave of pain through his body but it was nothing compared to the sight of the utterly blank look on Clark's face. "No, Lex, it's okay. I took care of the mutant." 

Unsteadily getting to his feet (because it didn't seem as if Clark would be moving any time soon) Lex laid one hand on Clark's shoulder, partially for support, partially to reassure himself that it was Clark in front of him, not some fevered imagining, although perhaps a hallucination would have been better under the circumstances. He forced himself to look around the lab, ignoring the growing roaring in his ears that was telling him nothing would ever be the same again. 

The bench, a smashed beaker or two, and acid trying to eat through the protective coating. Rocks innocently sitting in the middle of it all, and a pool of an aromatic hydrocarbon compound was dripping its way over the edge, sliding thickly to the floor where it was joined by an equally viscous red substance. Try as he might, Lex couldn't tear his eyes away from following the trail, past the hand which now seemed ludicrous in the greater scheme of things, all the way to the gash in the leg of the body that was lying sprawled across the laboratory floor, the neck at a hideous angle that should never be on a person who was supposed to be alive. 

His father wasn't green. 

That was only Clark, and now Lex, as he fought to keep his stomach contents in place because that thing lying on the floor ... it wasn't a thing, it was his _father_ and even though he'd hated him it was still his _father_ and Clark had killed him. 

Slowly, Lex drew away. 

"I stopped the mutant, Lex." It was said softly, a litany, trying to convince them both. "I did what I was supposed to do." 

Lex kept backing away, until he was against the wall again, but that wasn't useful at all. The exit lay beyond the body, beyond _Clark_ , who was suddenly the most frightening thing Lex had ever seen. 

"You killed him." 

"I protected you." 

"You _killed_ him." 

They stared for a while, blue eyes meeting green, a challenge and a response fought with undercurrents, all the while, trying desperately to deny the truth that they both knew. 

And when Clark finally did speak, it was in the voice of a little boy who had lost absolutely everything. His hope, his love, his innocence, every quality that made Clark Kent the person he was and the person he could never be again. "I -- I'm sorry." 

Then he turned, and ran, so fast that Lex could barely see him. He didn't see Clark Kent for another ten years. 

* 

"As a new crime spree hits the city, President Luthor maintains that there is no reason to panic. Preparations are in place for a new space defence weapon which should destroy the asteroid well ahead of its predicted impact time. The president urges all citizens to remain calm and to assist the overworked police force in any manner possible." 

Lex reached out one gloved hand and clicked off the radio. "What this world needs," he mused aloud, "is a superhero. Someone who can take care of these little messes while I can concentrate on what's important." 

His phone beeped and the frazzled face of his first minister appeared. "Mr. President, there's a situation." 

"There's always a situation, Parker. Why should this one be any more important?" 

The man gave a decidedly agitated cough before continuing. "There's been a prison riot." 

"And?" A car suddenly swerved in front of Lex and he slammed on the brakes, swearing. His cabinet hated the fact that he drove around in an unmarked car, but personal freedom was something that Lex was not prepared to give up. 

"And Dabney Donovan escaped." 

Shit. That was the absolute last thing he needed -- to deal with Donovan again. Donovan, his arch-nemesis. He who had almost taken his life a couple of years ago during the incident at the cloning facility, an incident that had left Lex short one hand. He unconsciously clenched the artificial replacement and reflected that some things never changed. 

The thought gave him pause, deja-vu sweeping through him yet again as he refocussed his eyes on the road rather than the screen, and overtook a pickup truck. Incidents of familiarity had been haunting him more and more of late, yet there was nothing he could pinpoint as the cause. As far as he knew, the time travel machine didn't work and he had no intention of testing it again until the threat of the asteroid was over. 

Which should be the only thing occupying his thoughts right now. "Increase security around my offices," he directed Parker, "and don't release my schedule to anyone. I want you to dispatch a team of commandos to keep tabs on Donovan -- don't attempt to capture him just yet." The final words were a warning; Lex knew just how creative the man could be and only Lex himself could be an equal opponent. In fact, the idea of the upcoming challenge almost inspired him. It was lonely when you were brilliant. 

"Yes sir," came the response. Parker then pointed towards the chronometer at the top left hand corner of the screen, the standard location on all comm-phones. "The test launch is in one hour. I assume you'll want to be present?" 

"I'm already on my way. I'll see you there," he smoothly responded, and ended the communication. Grimacing at yet another driver who thought he owned the road, Lex briefly contemplated taking the airway, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as feeling the asphalt churn beneath the tyres. Even if the road was on fire some miles ahead. 

More end-of-the-world fanatics, he decided, people burning everything before the asteroid hit. Didn't they get it? Didn't they realise that their president, the man they'd elected, the man they loved, would save them all? 

Despite taking a detour, Lex arrived at the facility with several minutes to spare, grimacing when he noticed the Secret Service car pull up right behind him. His communications director, the lovely Lois Lane, caught his arm the moment he exited his car. "Sir, I need a statement from you just prior to the launch. I know you weren't planning to give a speech but the people need to hear something, they need to know they can depend on you." 

"This launch was supposed to be a secret," Lex tossed back as he swung his jacket over his shoulder and slammed the door shut. (There wasn't any need to slam the door. It would have shut itself, but slamming always felt better.) 

"I know, but someone leaked. We suspect it was the opposition. Sir," and she gave him her brightest smile, "we know it's going to be successful, so what's the problem?" That was Lois, ever the optimist. 

He stalked ahead of her, trying to think of a suitable retort but realising that ears other than Lois' were listening. Through the security doors he strode, and into the chamber where nervous technicians scuttled from one task to the next. A large clock monitored the countdown -- eleven minutes to go. He drew Lois aside while keeping an overall eye on things. 

"The problem, Ms. Lane, is that this is technology that hasn't been tested and it will quite possibly blow up in our faces." 

"But you designed it." 

Lex sighed. For a woman who was absolutely brilliant, sometimes she had trouble seeing what was right in front of her face. He'd thought she was better than that, and while inimitable faith was always nice to receive, it made failure that much more embarrassing. 

"It is a _test_. We're not going to reach the asteroid, we're just going to send a dummy rocket on an identical trajectory so that we can make any modifications to the process before the live run two days from now." 

Lois smiled. "Can I quote you on that, Sir?" 

He threw up his arms in disgust and walked away, ignoring the knowing glances of several employees who gossiped about his constant flirtation. They had no idea that the last good fuck he'd had was from a seventeen year old boy far too many years ago. 

"It's away!" someone announced grandly, Lex closely watching the monitor. The bomb was laser guided, the laser being the most crucial part of the system, the part that was drawing the most energy. The part that was currently flickering with intermittent pulses and when Lex tore his eyes away from the guidance screen, he realised that the building was smoking. 

Well, fuck. 

* 

"Three hundred and eight million dollars to complete the repairs, but it will be done by mid-Tuesday." 

Lex glared at the technician. "Tuesday is when the asteroid strikes." 

The technician swallowed, offering figures before her like a form of defence. "We'll have a six hour window. More than enough time for a successful launch. And the asteroid should still be outside Earth's atmosphere, which means that the potential of radiation is minimal." 

He took the proffered paperwork and leaned back in his chair. A quick glance told Lex everything he needed to know -- after all, he had designed the system and was intimately familiar with its workings. "So what went wrong?" 

"Power. As in not enough -- since the riots, several of Metropolis's power plants have been performing with less than peak efficiency. That's the other part of the cost," and the woman gestured towards the figures again. "We need extra sources to draw upon now that we know what's necessary to sustain an interstellar laser." 

Lex placed his feet up on the desk, feigning complacency even though this latest setback had given him more than a few nightmares. "Do it." 

"I'll just need you to sign here, and here, and...." Sighing, Lex did so, wishing he could hire someone to do his signing for him, but there were some parts of bureaucracy that he couldn't delegate no matter how much power he accumulated. 

"I want people working around the clock on this," he finished. "This world has a destiny and we _cannot_ let a random event destroy that for all of us." He waved the technician away, thinking back in time to the last time an asteroid had come crashing into his world. It had changed everything, absolutely everything, and now it was happening again. A third time. 

Third time? Shaking his head, Lex probed for the memory but it was gone, along with a hundred other memories of Smallville that he'd successfully suppressed. He'd never had a father. He'd never known Clark. 

And he wasn't lonely. 

* 

It missed. Lex Luthor swore viciously, crushing the glass in his real hand. He barely noticed the red blood that trickled down his wrist, destroying the pristine whiteness of his shirt, because it was now irrelevant. It was all irrelevant, because he, along with the rest of the world, had barely five hours to live. 

And somehow, the failure was only expected. 

Lex ignored the hammering on the door, for what could they do, anyway? There wasn't time to recharge the weapon and more than likely, there wasn't enough power left in the city. For the first time in years he'd failed, and it was a feeling he refused to accept. He opened his hand, watching the fragments of glass scatter to the floor as his mind ticked over the possibilities: too late to send himself into space, too late to construct a defence shield around Luthor headquarters, but...not too late for time travel. He thought of the machine and laughed without mirth. Was this the reason he'd built something he'd never had much intention of using? 

A quick phone call took care of the preparations, his lackey assuring him it could be pulled out of storage and be ready to go within four hours. It would be close, but it was better than dying. 

He turned, glancing around his opulent office one last time. It had been a home to him, almost, these last few years, and he knew it intimately. Who was to say that he'd reach this point again? Presidency was at best a fleeting achievement for the many who'd come before him. His eyes were drawn to the trigger to the secret room, and without quite understanding why, Lex found himself pushing the button. The wall slid aside. 

For a moment, he saw a body. Red, blue, and black, a brief sensation of colours and then it was gone, leaving Lex with an inexplicable sense of urgency and despair. He'd been here before, but it wasn't possible. Yet there was a history in the walls and something screaming on the air to _think_ , think about the impossible and trust it. 

He took a step further into the empty room. It had been designed to hide the unsavoury unfortunates that came with life as a President, a much safer location than the bottom of a lake which he'd finally had the sense to fill in several years ago. He wondered where his little murderer was now. 

"Fuck!" he shouted as the answer dropped into his mind just like that. It was so blindingly obvious yet something no one except Lex could ever think of. To stop the asteroid, you had to push it aside. The laser didn't work. Lex couldn't fly. But once, he'd known someone who could, and had the strength to lift an entire high school gymnasium. 

He bolted from the room and tapped madly at his computer, searching on a surname that was all too common. There was no Clark that came up in the widely used census database, but Jonathan and Martha were there and Lex found himself not giving a damn about past history as he placed the call. 

"Lex." There wasn't even an attempt to disguise the disgust as Jonathan Kent's face appeared on the screen, so much older than when he'd last seen them. Lex's fingers tapped out another search command as he spoke. 

"Mr. Kent," and it was absurd, Lex was _President_ , but he still saw Jonathan Kent as someone whom he owed respect. "It's good to see you again." 

"What do you want?" Jonathan ignored the pleasantries and Lex felt the familiar discomfort rise in his stomach. After all of these years, they still blamed him for Clark's disappearance. Lex had tried for a good three months to track the boy down, but then other interests in Metropolis had drawn his attentions and he'd decided that whatever fate Clark treated himself to, it was deserved. After all, Clark had killed- 

Stopping the thought, for it was not the time for rage, Lex struggled to maintain a pleasant expression. "I need Clark." 

"It's a little bit late for that, don't you think?" Of course Jonathan knew that the laser had failed; the entire world had been glued to the news broadcasts. 

"No. Clark is the last hope we have." 

"And why should I believe you? Why should I trust you?" he spat. 

"Mr. Kent, for everything I did in the past, I apologise. I'm sure you won't believe what I'm saying but I only ever had Clark's best interests in mind. This time," he took a deep breath, "I'm thinking of the entire world." 

"No, you're thinking of yourself." 

The accusation hurt, more so because it was true in a sense. He didn't want the world to die, but more than that, _he_ didn't want to die. He wasn't ready, hadn't done enough, hadn't even begun to explore the magnificence that was human potential. 

"Regardless of my motivations," Lex said evenly, "your son is the only one who can help. You know he had unique abilities. You know he could fly." 

Shock coloured Jonathan's face and it was a reaction soon mirrored by Lex. Clark had never told his parents that? Then again, no one could keep a secret like Clark, and this truth was again proven by Jonathan's next words. 

"Lex," and he sighed heavily, "we don't know where he is." 

"He never went back to Smallville?" 

Shaking his head, Jonathan continued, "He's alive, we know that much. He sends us a letter every so often, but says he's better off not being around people because he could hurt them." Jonathan glared again, obviously blaming Lex. 

"Shit." 

"Mind your language, boy," came the instant response. 

"Sorry," he automatically apologised as his fingers tapped out another search, this time using the FBI database, but if Clark had vanished off the face of the earth with no evidence against him, there would hardly be a record other than that of a runaway teen. As expected, there was nothing. 

And yet -- 

Martha's wan face appeared before him, standing beside her husband but looking away. "Lex, I heard what you said. Do you really think our son can save the world?" 

He looked at her directly, saying, "I believe it completely." She still looked unconvinced, so he went on. "There has to have been a reason Clark was sent here. What if it was this? He arrived in a shower of asteroids and perhaps those who sent him knew he'd be needed like this one day." Lex knew he could persuade almost anyone of anything, but these were the Kents, his toughest audience. "Clark would want to help us, I'm sure of it." 

She nodded, minutely, and then said softly, "I have an address. It's old, but it's a start." 

Jonathan turned to his wife. "You knew where he was?" 

"He asked me never to tell you. Said it was for an emergency, that he'd only come home when he was ready." The couple stared at each other, a cycle of betrayal and regret. 

Lex cleared his throat, feeling the weight of precious seconds ticking by. "The address?" 

Martha ran to find it, while Jonathan stood there glaring at Lex so hard that he felt tempted to turn the screen off. "You said you had letters," he pressed. "What did Clark say?" 

"That's none of your damn business." Jonathan shuffled from side to side, a speculative look in his eye. "He never told us what you did. In fact, he never mentioned you at all." 

Surprisingly, that hurt, and Lex blinked. He hadn't thought of Clark, not really, in _years_. Why should he still care what some farmboy alien freak thought of him? 

"I've got it," Martha announced as she returned and rattled off the address. It was in Metropolis, the small mercy feeling like a miracle, and he programmed it into his GPS. 

"Thank you," Lex said, attempting a sincere smile. "I hope we talk again soon after all of this is over." He met Martha's eyes and she gave him a wan smile in return, but Jonathan's anger remained steady. 

"I swear, Lex Luthor, if you harm my boy again, I will come after you with a shotgun and I don't give a damn about the law or the fact that you're president. Do you hear me?" 

Lex reached out and switched the phone off. He left the computer on and ran, not stopping for his shades, and impatiently pushed the button of the elevator before realising that there was an entire building's worth of people running home to their families and he'd be better off taking the stairs. 

Thankfully, his favourite car was untouched by the rioting. It was a simple matter to load the address into the navigation system and have the route appear on the screen superimposed over the windscreen. His foot to the floor, Lex tore away from the LuthorCorp building, wondering if he'd ever return. 

The directions led him into the dank underbelly of Metropolis, a place he'd never been. Even though some of his contacts lurked in the neighbourhood, they came to him. Garbage lined the streets and beyond the acrid scent of smoke that permeated the entire city, there was a stench that spoke of dead things. This wasn't the uncleanliness of poor people, this was the playground of people who just didn't care. 

He looked up in surprise as the car prompted him to stop. The building was grey, cracked in places, the last place he'd expect someone who'd grown up in the cornfields of Kansas to be living. Lex grabbed the laser gun from the car's hidden compartment and exited warily, giving the lock instruction. Already, his car had drawn some attention and Lex wished he'd adopted a disguise, but it was too late for that now. It was almost too late for everything. 

He walked briskly to the building's entrance, giving the impression he knew what he was doing. Fear would only attract those he sought to avoid. Up the worn stone stairs, and he noted bullet holes in more than one wall. The stench inside was worse, if possible, combined with a mustiness that made him wonder if this building ever saw any fresh air. 

Apartment 3A was mercifully easy to find. In fact, it was one of the few doors that looked fully intact. Lex marched up to it and knocked. Ignored the fact that his heart was pounding, pretending that he wasn't sweating, that the possibility that Clark Kent was in here was doing strange things to his stomach. For a moment, he didn't know if it would be worse to find or not find Clark. 

There was no answer. He waited another three seconds, wishing there was a keyhole to peep through, and alone in the corridor, he felt horribly exposed. Clark _had_ to be there. He knocked again, knowing his actions were drawing attention from others. There was a low cackle from behind him. 

"He won't come out. Only ever comes out at night, that one." Turning, Lex saw a twisted figure, a woman so old and wrinkled it was impossible she could still be alive. "They say he's not human." 

"I need to get in there," Lex said directly. 

The woman shrugged. "I don't have a key." 

Tugging on the door handle, Lex rattled it as best he could, but the door remained solid. He couldn't even see cracks of light escaping for the edges. "Damn it!" He kicked the wood, hard, but the only result was a sore toe. 

"Who's the landlord around here?" Lex demanded, for the woman's beady eyes were still firmly fixed on him. 

"No one. Landlord's dead." 

"The I guess no one will mind if I do this." Lex pulled out his weapon and fired, not at the woman, but at the stubborn door, and all too easily, the wood melted away. 

He stepped through into darkness, a tiny hall blocked at the other end by what seemed to be another door without a handle. Kicking this one aside didn't work either, so again he fired, realising only too late that it was the back of some kind of furniture, a movable cupboard, perhaps, and Clark had essentially barricaded himself within the apartment. 

Clark had obviously never expected Lex Luthor to come and find him. 

He pushed aside the remains of the cabinet and stepped forward...into an eerily lit world. Green. It was green, all of it, this tiny single room decorated with green rocks on every possible shelf. They were glowing. There was a single fridge, a pile of clothing, and a bed, upon which a pale figure lay. 

"Clark." 

The figure didn't move, gave no indication that he'd heard or that he was even alive, but as Lex walked closer, he knew it was Clark. Heard the laboured breathing, and even though the skin was mottled and sickly, he lived. Dark hair still long, scruffy (a fragment memory of running his fingers through that hair, but no), and the pale face, remembered lips, eyes closed. 

"Clark." 

The eyes opened, the gaze shocking him because it was so devoid of the _life_ he remembered, and a frightening smile appeared on his face. "I-" and Clark's voice gave out. He cleared his throat, tried again. "I've been waiting for you." 

Lex looked around, trying to conceal his surprise. There was no computer, nothing that vaguely resembled a communications device, and Lex was willing to bet that Clark didn't even know about the asteroid. 

The whisper came again. "I was wondering how long it would take." He coughed, a horrific sound, because Clark didn't get sick. "So let's go." 

"Where?" The question slipped out even before Lex knew he'd asked it, and he berated himself for allowing Clark's appearance to throw him so much. 

"To hell, of course." There was a weak laugh. "I should've expected you'd look like _him_." 

The implication hit Lex like the metaphorical punch. "I'm not the devil, Clark." 

"You're not?" 

Lex shook his head, trying to control the chill that was travelling down his spine. Clark had always been eerily linked to his future. 

"Then why did you come here?" Clark seemed a little more alert now, and clearly surprised, if surprise could be registered on the face of one who had obviously given up. 

"Because I need your help." 

Clark rolled over, faced the wall again. He reached out and grabbed a glowing green rock, holding it close to his heart. Lex watched as his eyes scrunched up in pain, but the hold on the rock didn't lessen. 

"Clark," and he stopped, at a loss. He took a step closer to the bed, ignoring the sickening feeling in his gut that told him that _he_ was the one who'd done this to Clark, taken his innocence and corrupted him forever. "The world needs you." 

"That implies that I give a damn about the world." Strange how such a weak voice could carry such vehemence. 

"But you do. You did." Gingerly, Lex sat on the side of the bed, not caring for once that the sheets were stained and torn. He placed on hand on Clark's shoulder, flinching as Clark flinched, breathing as Clark breathed. "The Clark Kent I knew would never give up." 

"The Clark Kent you knew is dead." 

"He can't be," Lex quickly countered, "because he has a purpose and he hasn't fulfilled it yet." Lex told him of the asteroid, knowing that Clark couldn't help but listen, and at the end of the story was rewarded with Clark actually releasing the damned rock and sitting up. 

"So we've got three hours?" 

Lex nodded, and Clark smiled blissfully. "Guess I don't need all of this after all." 

"No, Clark, you've missed the point completely!" Lex fought the urge to pace; he wanted to be near Clark so he could stop him in case he tried to do something crazy with the glowing rocks. "You can stop it, Clark. It's what you were destined to do." 

The rock was thrown, it should have shattered, but there was no strength behind the toss. "I stopped doing that kind of thing a long time ago, Lex. Didn't want to be a murderer." 

"So you kill yourself instead." 

He shrugged, weakly. "Better than the alternative. I'm already going to hell. I'll probably see you there pretty soon." 

"Damn it, Clark!" Lex exploded. He did not have time for this; none of them did. "I'm getting you out of here. These rocks are obviously causing serious disturbances in your neural pathways." He didn't give Clark a chance to protest as he leaned over and lifted the man up. Shit, but Clark was heavy even though he looked as if he hadn't eaten anything in months. What was it they'd joked about once? Man of steel? 

It wasn't funny anymore. 

He staggered from the room, accidentally slamming Clark into the wall at least once, but Clark didn't seem to care. He actually laughed as Lex almost stumbled down the stairs, swearing viciously with every footstep. "Damn you, Clark Kent, you are going to save us whether you want to or not!" 

Mercifully, his car was still intact, the would-be thieves having redirected their attention to the glowing ball in the sky. Lex glanced at his watch. The asteroid wasn't supposed to hit the atmosphere just yet, and while it was still outside the atmosphere, it should be intact enough for one man to push it. "See, Clark?" he said, unlocking the car and pushing him into the passenger seat. "I know you can withstand fire, you can go without oxygen for at least an hour, and getting up there won't be a problem for a man of your talents." 

He slammed the door shut and went to the driver's side, muttering, "The only problem is convincing you to do it." Hopefully, getting Clark away from the influence of the rocks would have some impact, because right at that moment, Clark Kent just didn't care. 

What would make Clark care? Certainly not Lex himself, he'd made that more than apparent during the last few minutes. He pushed his foot on the accelerator. If Clark was going to make the leap then it was best to start from the highest building possible, to give Clark that extra advantage. "Your mother!" he realised, his mind working on two problems at once. 

That provoked a reaction. "Is she okay?" 

"She won't be for much longer," Lex said darkly, and hit the speed dial on the car's phone. Information connected him to the Kents all too quickly and Lex pushed the camera so that not only could Clark see his parents, but his parents could see him. 

The joy on Martha's face was almost heartbreaking, if Lex had a heart. She screamed, shouting, "Jonathan, come quick!" and then looking back at the screen. "Clark, my baby, oh Clark...." She was crying and she reached out, laying one hand on the cold monitor. Lex watched as Clark unconsciously did the same, and he'd never seen so much pain and regret on anyone's face. 

"Hi Mom," he said softly. 

"Clark, Clark, I've missed you so much. Promise me that when this is all over, you'll come home and visit. You don't have to stay, I just want to see you." She was crying openly as she added, "Please?" 

Now Jonathan was at her side, wrapping an arm around his wife. "So Luthor found you," but the facade of gruffness could not be maintained. "It's good to see you, son," and there were tears in his eyes too. "I'm proud of you." 

"But," Clark began, and then stopped. Looked at Lex with a fury so black that Lex shivered. 

"Mom, Dad, I," and again he paused, just staring at them. "I love you and I promise, I'll visit when this is all over. I just need to concentrate right now, figure out how I'm going to do this." 

"Be careful, Clark," Jonathan warned in voice best described as broken. "I wish we could be there with you but we'll be thinking of you..." 

"And praying for you," interrupted Martha. 

"...the entire time." He swallowed. "We love you, Clark, no matter who you are or what happened in the past." 

"I love you too," he whispered back. One last touch to the screen, and the Kents ended the communication. 

There was silence in the car as Lex wound his way out of the slums and into the nicer streets of Metropolis. He didn't dare look at Clark; he focussed on the driving with the same intensity he usually applied to solving problems. The eerie quiet lasted a full fifteen minutes, Lex imagining the range of emotions Clark was going through. Anger at him, obviously. Overwhelming concern for his parents. And hopefully, a small dose of guilt, the Clark Kent conscience that he used to know that wouldn't sit by and let the entire world die while he could do something about it. 

"You do realise, of course," and the tone was dangerously lazy this time, "that I haven't used my abilities in _years_?" 

Fighting to keep his voice steady, Lex answered, "I'm sure it will be like riding a bike. You never forget, you just have to get back on it." 

Clark sighed, leaned back in his chair. "If I do this," (of course he would do this), "you have to swear to never come near me, or my family, again." 

"I promise, Clark," he said easily, glancing over at him. 

"I mean it, Lex." 

"So do I," but he didn't. Not now, when he remembered just what Clark could do for him. 

"I could kill you and no one would ever know." 

"You won't." 

"I might." 

Lex left it at that, swerving around another corner. He spied the Tower of Metropolis in the distance and almost allowed himself a sigh of relief. At two hundred stories high, it was the ideal place to launch. 

"Did you ever wonder about us?" Clark said, for no apparent reason, but obviously his mind was retracing the memories just as surely as Lex was. Lex fixed him with a steely glare, and Clark casually reached out and corrected his steering. A weak touch, but proving there was still power in those arms. 

"Wonder in what way?" 

"Wonder why I gave up my life, gave up _everything_ , just like that so I could move in with you." 

Frowning, Lex realised that no, he hadn't wondered about it. It was something he'd accepted because he was a Luthor, and Luthors always got what they wanted. 

"I did it for my parents. Stupid, huh," and he gave a self-depreciating laugh. "I figured that if anyone ever found out about me, they'd be the ones that got hurt." He gazed out at the road. "That happened anyway." 

Lex merely shrugged. "It was your choice. I never pushed you into anything." 

Another harsh laugh, which soon turned into a wracking cough. "Is that truly what you think? God, Lex, you _used_ me. All that flirting, all those come-ons, I thought they actually meant something. I told myself you knew what was best. I told myself that I felt something for you too." 

"The world doesn't work like that, Clark." He braked and turned left, hard, the impact slamming Clark against the door. "Love is power, nothing more, nothing less. If I taught you anything at all, that's the one thing I'd hope you remembered." 

Shaking his head, Clark said, "You're wrong." 

"And how would you know?" 

Silence, for a long moment, and then a small voice said, "I used to believe in love. Guess you're right. Guess it's all fucked up." 

Smiling like a proud father, Lex said, "That's my boy." He gunned the engine, the light in the sky was becoming brighter by the second. "You feeling any better?" 

"No." Clark sounded almost rude. 

Lex glanced at his watch. It had been a good half hour since they'd left the green rocks behind and recovery time had never been this long before. But with increased exposure, all the rules had changed. He made the final turn, hearing the tyres squeal but figuring he could replace them tomorrow, now that they _had_ a tomorrow. Clark moaned, softly. 

The man was still tinged with green and Lex felt a renewed sense of fear. What if Clark was right, and he really couldn't do it? And if that was the case, it was his fault.... 

"We're here," he announced, pulling up in the designated no-parking zone in front of the stairs. He had to go round the car and open the door for Clark, wrapping the man's arm around his shoulder. "Come on." 

They stumbled into the building together, Lex doing more than his fair share of lifting and when Clark turned to him and said, "Lex, I really don't think I can do this," Lex believed him. But there was an infinite gap between what he believed, and what had to be done, and Lex was firmly on the side of this or nothing. 

"You can do it, Clark." He punched the button for the elevator. Unsurprisingly, the building was devoid of people. 

"I don't think I care enough." Clark shuddered and Lex began to understand that something was seriously wrong. "My parents won't know if I don't." 

"We're going up," Lex announced, pushing Clark into the small interior. He caught Clark as he swayed; helped him lean against the wall as the rapid acceleration began. The speed caused Clark to look even sicker, if that was possible. 

"Lex," and Clark was seriously woozy now, "I think I'm going to...." 

Lex looked away, the retching sounds were almost as distasteful as the smell. He pulled a handkerchief out and handed it in Clark's direction, and as the elevator slowed, he caught sight of the mess on the floor. The mess, which contained suspiciously familiar green.... 

"You _ate_ the rocks?!" 

Clark leaned his head against the steel wall, moaning softly. 

"And you didn't think to tell me this?" 

A soft, disparaging chuckle. "I told you I was going to hell." 

"God, Clark!" He didn't understand why the idea horrified him so much. It went beyond Clark's abilities, it even went beyond what they were trying to do. "How many did you eat? Are they all out?" 

"No," was the weak reply. "Been taking them...months now. Today - an extra special dose." 

The doors slid open with a ridiculous ding. They were one floor short of the building-top viewing platform, which was a short escalator ride away, but Lex was beginning to have serious doubts about all of this. He placed his arm around Clark's waist, guiding him out and into a chair. "Just sit down a minute. Breathe." 

Clark did as he was told, more compliant than he'd been in years. His breathing was still ragged and he was sweating, but his colour was marginally better. "Would it be so bad...if it all ended?" The question was hopeful and Lex crouched in front of him, hands on Clark's knees, looking straight into his eyes. 

"Yes, it would, Clark." 

"Why?" 

"Because...because people need to live. I need to live. _You_ need to live. Think of your parents, Clark. Think of everyone you ever knew, everyone -" and why did it feel like he was twisting a knife in his own gut when he said these words?, "-everyone you ever hurt." They both knew what he meant. "This is your chance to do something right for them. Your chance to make it right." 

Pain flashed across Clark's eyes as he remembered. "I killed your father, Lex." 

It was an admission that came far too late, and Lex nodded almost imperceptibly before he took the pain, twisted it into something useful. "Now you can save someone else's." 

A grim look of determination came across Clark's face as he got to his feet. He used Lex's shoulder for guidance, his hand drifting across Lex's cheek and just for a moment, the memory shocked them both. "I'm going." 

They walked up the final level together, not speaking, not touching, not even thinking, really, just concentrating on breathing and moving and reaching their ultimate destination. And what a destination -- a red sky lit by a waning sun and the brilliance of a star a hundred thousand times magnified. 

"I can do this," Clark said. 

"You can." 

"I have to do this." 

"You will." 

Clark took a deep breath, and with no further warnings, began to run. He crossed the roof in a microsecond that stretched for eternity as Lex watched, not daring to breathe, as Clark reached the end, lifted his arms, and soared. 

He was beautiful. The light blazed on Clark's face and his eyes had never been greener; despite the torn clothing he seemed an angel and it was Lex who had put him there. He smiled in appreciation, in ownership, for this was _his_ creation and this was the reason for knowing Clark Kent. 

The Clark Kent who was now flying towards the glowing ball of destruction, cutting through layers of atmosphere as if they were nothing to him, it was the determination of...a hero? And if Clark were the hero, then what did that make Lex? He followed Clark's progress through one of the many telescopes located on the viewing platform. 

The glare intensified and Lex tore off one shirtsleeve and placed it over the eyepiece, marginally dimming the light. He'd still be doing damage to his eyes but he knew his doctors could fix it without too much trouble. After all, there were entire clones of spare parts just waiting for the day he might need them. 

"Closer, Clark, that's it." He barely realized he was speaking as the distant figure flew higher still, until it seemed as if the asteroid was on top of him. 

And that was when Clark faltered. 

"No," Lex whispered. "Use your strength, come on, Clark, you can _do_ this!" Clark was the future, he had to succeed. But he wasn't soaring any higher; in fact, he seemed to be trembling, wavering, until there was nothing left and he fell. 

Tumbling forever, head over feet and round again and Lex could do nothing but watch in horror as Clark fell back to earth. His eyes were closed, and away from the intensity of the asteroid's glare, Lex could see the green colouring. It sickened him. "Clark!" he shouted, uselessly, for there was no way Clark could hear him from this distance. "Clark!" 

He kept falling, getting faster and faster until the terminal velocity was reached and even then it seemed as if his speed was increasing. Lex had never been more tempted in his life to jump off the side of a building, just so he could _catch_ him, because Clark was going to hit ground very soon. 

Lex's heart hammered a deadly beat as he raced from the deck, back down the escalator and then the elevator all two hundred stories down. Out the door, and then north, where Clark had been flying, but it was already too late and a small crowd had gathered around the broken body lying innocently in a field of grass. 

"Clark!" He shouted it again and the group parted, perhaps sensing his authority, but more likely the emotional connection. Was there something in his voice that tipped them off? "God, Clark, it wasn't supposed to happen like this!" And why was his heart pounding, why did it _hurt_? A feeling beyond regret and disappointment and shame. 

He reached the body, and heedless of any observers, took Clark's hand. Clark opened his eyes. 

"You flew, Clark," 

But Clark couldn't speak, couldn't move, could only look at him. 

"Just a little further and you would have made it. You could have done it...." Lex couldn't stop the words from tumbling from his lips, he didn't know what to say, and anything he did say was wrong. It wasn't what he wanted to say. "Clark-" 

"Screw you, Lex Luthor," he gasped, and then he died. 

Lex held the body, feeling strangely bereft, and even the urgent voice in his head (less than 2 hours until it's all over, Lex, so you'd better do something fast!) couldn't compel him to move. This was Clark. Clark, whom he'd killed, for no reason other than to save his own skin. 

Clark hadn't deserved that. Memories flashed through his mind, the first time he'd seen Clark, the day that Lex had flown and an angel had brought him back to earth. Beauty, purity, _goodness_ , and Lex had tried to take it all. 

"It wasn't my fault," he said to the heavens, hoping they'd listen. "He chose to run away, if he'd stayed, if he'd continued his training, he could have done it. I _know_ he could have." His eyes traced Clark's face one last time, the man who had lived as his lover and died a stranger. "Next time, Clark, you won't run." He made the vow and knew he would keep it. "You are mine." 

* 

He made it back to the lab in time, where the time machine was prepped and ready to go despite the insistence of his technicians that it couldn't possible work, and the spectre of his past future lingered. He wasn't surprised. 

"You really fucked that one up, didn't you." His ghost reminded him of his father. 

"I'll know better next time," Lex said darkly. The technician stared at him in confusion and Lex waved him away with his hand. 

"You won't remember next time." 

"But there will be pieces," he replied, finally understanding. Pieces, imperatives, crucial snippets of knowledge that came to him at the right moment in young Lex's life. "A simple tweak here and there and Clark will never turn his back on his abilities." 

The other Lex just looked at him darkly, shaking his head. 

He stepped into the machine, smiling. "I have a future to greet." 

He fell. 

* 

End. 


End file.
